


Desperate

by stopmysinfulhand



Series: Gimme, Gimme, Gimme [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Biting, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fingering, Reader Insert, Vampire!Natasha, Vampirism, blood-sucking, no powers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 14:51:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21255140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmysinfulhand/pseuds/stopmysinfulhand
Summary: “Why am I being so nice?” she finishes.You nod quickly. “Right. I mean, you don’t know me at all, and yet you opened your home to me,” you say.Natasha seems to think for a moment. “I know what it’s like to be lost, (Y/N).” She brushes back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “I know what it’s like to be desperate.” Her voice takes on a smooth edge that draws you in and sends shivers down your spine. “And someone who comes to me for help must be truly desperate.”You seek out the fabled woman who owns the big castle on the mountain, and are quite pleased with what you find.





	Desperate

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween 💋

Rain soaks through your gown and mingles with your tears as you attempt to scale the mountain beside your village. The dark castle looms above you, uninviting, yet full of promise. A single window is illuminated, a beacon through the storm, a siren call. You keep your head down as you climb, but every time you look up, the lit window remains.

Trudging up craggy rock, you curse yourself. Your shoes are clutched in the hand not holding your skirts up so you can walk. Stones press against your stockinged feet, slicing the fabric but not your skin. Despite the torture of walking, you persist. 

Your persistence is rewarded. A large steel gate swings open, revealing the drive that leads up to the castle. You walk faster, hoping to get to the door as soon as possible. You nearly slip on the steps up to it, but you make it, finally sheltered from the rain. You slam your hand against the heavy wooden door. 

It creaks open, revealing an extravagant and well lit foyer. A large staircase leads to a landing, where a large portrait of a woman is hung upon the wall. The woman has red hair, pulled back in an up-do with soft looking tendrils framing her pale face. Captivating green eyes stare down at you, causing you to swallow involuntarily. White teeth shine from soft pink lips parted in a smile. She is beautiful. 

The door shuts with a heavy clunk, blocking out the sound of the storm outside. You turn to face it, eyes wide in surprise. You hadn’t closed it, and certainly the wind could not have budged a door that heavy. 

“May I help you?” a gentle voice behind you asks. 

The woman you turn to face is obviously the woman in the portrait, although she seems… different. For one, her hair is down and falls just below her jawline in beachy waves. She is dressed in tight, black pants and a flouncy white blouse that is unlaced enough for you to see her collarbone. Her green eyes seem even more enchanting in reality, her teeth a bit sharper. She looks at you with curiosity, her arms crossed over her chest. “Well?” she asks, amused by your silence. 

A bright blush covers your tear-stained cheeks. “I—I’m—“ You can hardly choke out a sentence. Your gown drips onto the floor, each audible drop making you cringe. You begin to shake despite the castle’s warm interior. 

“Oh dear,” the woman says, her eyebrows furrowing. She steps forward and takes you by the shoulders. “You’re soaking wet.” 

You burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, I—I didn’t know what else to do,” you blubber. “I can’t be at home anymore, and I just— I heard rumors—“

The woman shushes you gently. “Relax, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

You swallow hard and scrub the tears out of your eyes. “(Y/N),” you whimper. 

She smiles, and you feel better almost instantly. “That’s a lovely name. I’m Natasha. Let’s get you something dry to wear, alright, (Y/N)?” 

You nod, and Natasha leads you up the stairs, her arm wrapped around your waist despite the wetness. She brings you to a bed chamber and insists you sit down in a chair while she searches for new clothing. She leaves you in front of a roaring fire for a few minutes, and when she returns, she has a hot drink in her hand and something draped over her arm. 

“Here darling, drink this,” Natasha encourages, handing you a mug of tea. You take a sip and sigh. The tea is sweet, like honey and lemon, and soon you drain the whole mug. “That’s a good girl,” she cooes. A shiver runs up your spine that has nothing to do with the cold. “Need a hand with that dress?” 

A blush lightly stains your cheeks and you nod. She takes your hand and pulls you out of the chair. Natasha turns you so your back is facing her. Her delicate fingers begin to unbutton your dress. A comfortable lull settles over you as she undresses you. The soft rustle of your skirts graces your ears, and she helps you step out of them. Your wet chemise clings to you. You turn, and do not miss the way Natasha’s eyes roam over you. Her gaze flicks up to yours and she gave you an easy smile. “Here,” says Natasha. She offers you the thing draped over her arm. It’s a towel and a nightgown. “I’ll step out while you dry off.” 

“Thank you,” you breathe. You watch her as she walks out of the room, eyes trained on her hips that sway just so as she moves. You swallow hard. She glances at you over her shoulder and shoots you a knowing smile, then shuts the door. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. 

You carefully dry off, hyper aware of Natasha’s presence just outside the door. The nightgown slides over your head easily and fits like a dream. “Okay,” you call. “You can come back now.” 

Natasha re-enters and smiles. “You look beautiful,” she cooes. “Can I offer you some wine? Something to eat?”

You flush and shake your head. “N-No, thank you.” You hesitate and shift your stance. Natasha’s eyes track you, and you feel naked, even with the nightgown. “Natasha,” you start, and nearly trail off, but then she’s looking at you with those pretty green eyes, staring at you with the entirety of her attention, and you can’t just not finish your sentence when she looks at you like that. “I appreciate your hospitality more than you know, more than you’ll ever know, but.” Here you hesitate again.

Her smiles shifts into something knowing, and she steps a bit closer to you. “Why am I being so nice?” she finishes. 

You nod quickly. “Right. I mean, you don’t know me at all, and yet you opened your home to me,” you say. 

Natasha seems to think for a moment. “I know what it’s like to be lost, (Y/N).” She brushes back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “I know what it’s like to be desperate.” Her voice takes on a smooth edge that draws you in and sends shivers down your spine. “And someone who comes to me for help must be truly desperate.” 

“They say you’re a witch,” you say softly, almost without meaning to. 

“Oh no,” she says with a chuckle. When she laughs, you notice her teeth seem even sharper than before. “Not a witch.” 

“I don’t care,” you proclaim suddenly, stepping closer to her. “I’m glad I came here.” 

Her smile is genuine. “I’m glad you did too,” says Natasha, and she sounds like she means it. “So you’re not scared? You can be honest.” Her green eyes have a predatory glint. 

You swallow and glance towards the fire. “Maybe a little,” you admit. 

“Perfectly normal,” Natasha amends. “You are in a stranger’s castle, after all. In the rain. At night.” When she says ‘at night’, she nudges you slightly. The action makes you jump and laugh at the same time. 

“Thank you again, Natasha,” you breath, looking up at her. Was she that tall before?

“Stay as long as you like,” she cooes, and you find yourself thinking you could stay forever. You’re drawn closer to her, lips parted slightly. Natasha smiles, her hand floating just beside your arm, ready to draw you in. 

A clock clangs somewhere downstairs, the sound heavy and jarring. “Damn,” she says quietly. You nearly echo the sentiment. “Bedtime. You could use some rest too, (Y/N).” She gently boops your nose. Taking your hand, she raises it and kisses your knuckles. “Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she promises.

“Tomorrow,” you repeat, nearly breathless just from her small, intimate gesture. She winks at you and breezes from the room. Alone, and for some reason mildly disappointed, you climb into the big bed, snuggling up in the heavy covers. They smell like her and you inhale deeply, imagining her beside you. 

* * *

You wake to the chiming of a clock. You roll over and bury your face in the pillow, grumbling. You were having such a nice dream! Something about a beautiful woman and a castle. 

“(Y/N), wake up, darling,” your mother beckons. 

Wait. Your mother didn’t sound like that. 

You roll on to your side and open your eyes. Natasha leans over you with a smile. “Up and at ‘em, sweetheart,” she purrs. 

“Natasha,” you breathe, scrambling to sit up. “You weren’t a dream.” 

Natasha laughs, the sound clear and crystalline. Your cheeks warm and your heart does somersaults in your chest. “Pretty and funny? I think you’re the dream here,” she says, her eyes flirtatious. 

You lick your suddenly very dry lips. “You think I’m pretty?” you ask. 

She rolls her eyes and takes your hand, pulling you out of bed. “Of course I do,” Natasha says, as if you asked a stupid question. “Now, c’mon. I’ll show you around.” 

You bump into her as you are tugged from the bed, and Natasha is forced to wrap her arms around your waist to prevent you from falling. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was so clumsy,” you mutter, embarrassed. 

“Don’t be,” purrs Natasha. “It’s cute.”

Dazed by her flirtations, your cheeks ablaze, you are pushed along by your host. Natasha takes your hand once you reach the hallway and leads you downstairs. She shows you a ballroom, a sitting room, the parlor, the dining room, and the kitchen. You try to keep track of where everything is, but honestly you’re overwhelmed. At the sight of the kitchen, your stomach growls. 

“Oh!” Natasha seems almost surprised. She smacks her forehead with her palm. “I’m so stupid. I totally forgot.” She ushers you to the kitchen table, ensures you’re seated, and begins to bustle around, collecting any food items she can find. 

“You don’t have to—“

Natasha waves away your dismissal. “Don’t be silly. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t feed you?” She fills in your stunned silence. “A bad one. That’s what kind.” 

In front of you she places a bowl of grapes, an entire loaf of bread, two apples, and a raw potato. You’re not quite sure what to make of her actions, but don’t want to be rude, so you take a bite of one of the apples. 

Natasha is staring very hard at you. You swallow and give her a thumbs up. She exhales and gives you a relieved smile, patting your hand. “Eat up,” she encourages. “I’ll be back. Just going to take care of something.” 

She’s gone before you can give an affirmative. 

You finish your apple and start to tear into the bread, embarrassed by your own bad table manners despite being alone. Natasha walks back in right as you take a big bite, your mouth full of bread. She sets a glass of water on the table, obviously holding back giggles. 

You swallow as soon as the food in your mouth is no longer a choking hazard and grimace. “Don’t laugh at me,” you plead.

“I’m not, I’m not!” she assured you, sitting next to you. “Though you are very cute.” 

“Natasha,” you groan. You place your arms on the table and bury your face in them. You feel her hand gently pat your back, so you peek at her. “Are you teasing me?”

“Of course not, darling,” she says with a wry smile. “Why would I do that?” 

You sit up, watching her warily. Her cheeky grin reveal sharp canines, and you ponder briefly what it would feel like to have her bite you.

Whoa, what?

Swallowing hard, you look out one of the small windows in the kitchen. It’s pitch black outside, and you straighten in surprise. “Gosh, what time is it?” you ask.

“Probably near 10 pm?” Natasha ventures. “I let you sleep for a while. You seemed exhausted.”

“Thank you,” you say, and you really mean it. You take her hand and squeeze it. “You’re so nice.”

There’s a glint in her eyes as she stands up, dragging you up with her. You’re suddenly very close together, her chest nearly pressing to yours. “Nice? Oh no,” she cooes. “I am not nice.” Her tone shift, from casual to seductive, leaves you reeling. Natasha’s arm snakes around your waist and she bends her head, her mouth hovering near your neck. Almost without thinking, you tilt your head back to give her more room. You hear her smile when she speaks again. “You however, are very nice.” Her voice is a purr that rumbles through your whole body, alighting your nervous system. “Good enough to eat, I’d wager.” 

You gasp at the faint brush of her lips against your throat. “Would-Would you like to try?” you manage. 

She pulls back far enough to look at you, delight written on her features. “So bold for such a little thing,” she marvels. “I may just take you up on that.” She shifts the mood back to something lighthearted. “But I need to give you the rest of the tour.”

You exhale shakily as she drags you out of the kitchen and up the grand staircase. Upstairs, she shows you too many guest rooms to count, a rather glorious library, and finally her room. It’s big and a little spooky, everything draped in either black or red. There’s a large dressing table, but no mirror. You look at her in surprise. How does she manage to look that good without a mirror?

She grins back at you. “Do you like it?” she asks. 

“It’s beautiful,” you reply.

Natasha’s smile softens, and your eyes are drawn to her lips. They look soft and pink, and you decide you’ve never wanted to kiss someone so bad. “Don’t look at me like that,” she warns, startling you out of your daydream. 

“Or what?” you ask, bolder than you felt.

Her voice takes on a growling edge. “Or else I’ll have to keep you here all to myself.”

She picks you up and you let out a delighted squeal, holding tightly onto her. Easily carrying you to the bed, she drops you onto it and sits next to you. You tuck yourself against her side and look up at her. “Did you mean it?” you ask.

Her arm wraps around your shoulders. “What if I did?” returns Natasha, voice soft. 

You swallow hard, screw your courage to the sticking place, and kiss her. She responds quickly, pulling you into her lap. Her lips are as soft as they looked. You wrap your arms around her neck and press yourself against her, deepening the kiss. Her tongue presses against the seam of your lips and you part them, letting the tip of her tongue tease yours. You graze your tongue against her teeth, finding them quite sharp. Her canine knicks your tongue. You pull back to nurse your wound, chest heaving slightly as you cover your mouth. 

Natasha looks at you hungrily. You curl your hands in her hair and forget about the cut, unable to resist kissing her again. Her hands skate up your sides and she flips you so you’re on your back. Her knee parts your legs. She settles between them, her lips never leaving yours. 

Your hips push up into hers, and you start to pant. Natasha pulls back to look at you, and smiles at what she sees. “One little kiss and you’re already wrecked?” she asks, teasing gently. Her hand slides up your bare thigh, causing you to shiver. “You certainly are good for my ego.” 

The joke makes you laugh. “I could be good for you in other ways too,” you say breathily, your hands pulling idly on her shirt. 

“I don’t think you know what you’re getting into,” says Natasha.

“I know what I’d like to get into.”

Natasha growls and pulls you into another heated kiss. Your back arches off the bed. Your lips part again and she delicately bites your lower lip, hard enough to break the skin, but fast enough that you didn’t notice. Natasha runs her tongue over the split.

Her composure accumulates a few cracks. Her pupils are blown wide and she licks her lips. Moving to your neck, she places soft, fast kisses along the column of your throat. You swallow hard and clutch her closer to you. “I’m going to bite you,” she whispers. 

You nod quickly. “Please,” you say, voice cracking. 

There’s a moment of stillness where you can feel her smile against your skin. It’s as if the whole world has inhaled and is holding their breath. 

Then, true to her word, she bites you. 

The pain hits first. She’s punctured the skin. Blood wells up fast, spilling down your throat for a moment before she seals her lips around the mark. She sucks and swallows. You can taste the iron as the smell hits the back of your throat, but most importantly, you can feel it. You can feel her sucking the blood from your neck, a constant pressure mixed with an annoying, painful pinch. It is agony. 

It is bliss. 

Natasha’s hand slips under the skirt of your nightgown. Cool fingertips slide up your inner thigh until she reaches her target. She brushes ever so gently over your pussy. You buck up, trying not to choke on the saliva you are unable to swallow. 

Her touch is feather light and sends electricity up your spine, muddling your brain until you can’t think straight. Granted, that could also be due to the rapid blood loss, but either way, you’re fuzzy and light, and nothing matters except Natasha. 

She releases the suction on your neck and moans against your skin. A shiver runs through you. She runs her tongue over the column of your throat and kisses your suddenly closed neck wound. “Such a good girl,” coos Natasha against your ear. 

You’re wetter than you’ve ever been. 

She feels this and huffs a soft laugh. “You like when I praise you?” Natasha asks. 

You nod. 

“Then I will do nothing but,” she assures you. “I will worship you as you deserve to be worshipped.”

And then, she does. 

Natasha pushes your nightgown up to your waist and promptly rests herself between your legs. She situates one arm under your thigh, the other separating your labia. She presses delicate kisses to the inside of your thigh, teasing you, building anticipation, and generally driving you crazy. 

“Natasha,” you croak, throat sore from where her fangs sunk in. “Please.”

“Anything for you, my love,” says Natasha. 

Spreading you open, she carefully licks your clit, testing the waters, so to speak. You wriggle, trying to get comfortable and adjust to the new sensation at the same time. She circles her tongue around your clit before carefully suctioning her lips around the nub. The sudden pressure makes you gasp, the sound morphing into a moan as she delicately sucks. 

Natasha obviously knows what she’s doing as she eats you out, her tongue skilled and precise. You’d be impressed if you weren’t busy having your brains fucked out. 

While she pays attention to your clit with her tongue, her fingers creep towards your opening. Her hands are chilly as you clench around them, but the low temperature is a blessing against your heated cunt. She fingers you slowly, carefully, taking her time to work you open. 

Moans are coming out of your dry mouth like puffs of smoke. You take a moment to lick your lips and attempt to collect yourself, but then you look down. 

If Natasha looked good before, she looks even better now. Her green eyes sparkle as she looks up at you, her perfect brows arched in a way that says  _ what did you expect? _

Certainly not this. 

She crooks her fingers so they press against your g-spot and your head falls back against the pillow, stars dancing across your vision. Her movements are slow, teasingly so, and they’re driving you closer and closer to the edge. “Natasha.” Her name is a plea that drips off your lips like honey. 

She gets the hint. 

Natasha begins to finger you faster, her perfect lips still pressed against your pulsing clit. The coil in your stomach tightens until it snaps, and suddenly your hips are jolting up as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through you. Natasha rides it with you, guiding your hips back down until you’re touching the bed again. She licks your juices off of her hand, and she meets your eyes as she does it. 

“Delicious in every way,” she purrs.

This woman is sin incarnate, and you, her willing pupil. 

Natasha mercifully pulls the skirt of your nightgown back down, covering you to preserve your now non-existent modesty. The picture of grace, she lays next to you, her head propped up on her hand. You are sure you look like an utter mess, hair tumbling, neckline stained with your own blood, but you don’t care. You’re blissed out of your mind. 

“Stay with me?” Natasha asks, a hint of vulnerability in her voice. 

You roll over and tuck yourself against her side. “Forever and ever,” you sigh in reply. You rest your head against her chest. There is no heartbeat to hear; after that display, you didn’t expect one. 

“Scared yet?” she asks, playing with your hair. 

“Of you?” You shift so you can look at her. “Never.”

Her smile is so genuine your heart skips a beat. “Thanks for climbing up my mountain,” Natasha purrs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Thanks for letting me in.” You yawn and the clock downstairs strikes a resounding gong.

“Bedtime,” says Natasha.

“Stay with me?” you ask. You wrap your arms around her waist, and she lets you, stroking your hair as you settle. 

“Forever and ever,” she says. You fall asleep in the arms of your new vampire girlfriend, and you are at peace. 

**Author's Note:**

> Is a vampire girlfriend too much to ask for? Asking for a friend.


End file.
